


You'll Be Okay

by Super_not_naturall



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depression, F/M, Reader Insert, Reader-Insert, Self-Harm, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 10:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11056623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Super_not_naturall/pseuds/Super_not_naturall
Summary: If you had the chance to make all of your pain disappear, would you take it?





	You'll Be Okay

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Self-harm, suicidal ideation, depression - this is literally just a full on angst piece. There might be some fluff at the end if you squint real hard and tilt your head to the right.
> 
> A/N: This is my submission to @supernatural-imagine ‘s 600 Follower Fic Challenge! My song was “You’ll Be Okay” by A Great Big World and the lyrics that I did use are bolded (I didn’t really use that many.) Tags are at the end.
> 
> To be completely honest, I rewrote this three or four times because it just never seemed right, and even now I’m not completely sure it’s perfect, but as always feedback is appreciated!

_“It’ll be okay; everything will be okay.”_

_You repeat the mantra in your head, trying to convince yourself that what you’re doing will make you feel better._

_Gripping your favorite hunter’s knife in your right hand, you glide the silver blade across the flesh of your thighs._

_Tears fall from your swollen eyes, your breath catches in the back of your throat, mind empty except for the pain you’re feeling._

_You faintly hear the shower running beside you, covering the sounds of your strangled sobs from your father who has probably passed out from drinking too much cheap beer at the bar next door._

_Tonight wasn’t a good night. The vampires got there before the both of you, slaughtering an entire family, including their three-year-old daughter._

_You can’t erase the image of her bloodstained dress from your brain._

_So instead you focus on the scarlet liquid that has started leading a trail away from your self-inflicted wound._

_You close your eyes and take a deep breath, focusing on the steady rhythm of the water hitting the porcelain tub._

You open your eyes, but the same motel bathroom from when you were fifteen is no longer in front of you.

The memory fades just as soon as it comes, but the feelings stay the same.

That was the first time you had put a blade against your skin, and it wouldn’t be the last.

But tonight was different.

Instead of gripping your blade, you hold a small vial filled with a dark, amber-colored liquid that reminds you of the alcohol Dean keeps stocked in the Bunker.

This isn’t alcohol, though, and Dean would be pissed if he knew what you had done.

It wasn’t supposed to end this way.

It was a simple hunt: find the witch, kill her, and get back home. That’s it. Nothing else.

But of course, nothing is ever that simple.

She knew, you don’t know how, but she knew of the demons you keep locked away, too far away for even the boys to see.

_“I can make all of that pain disappear, Y/N.”_ She had told you with a grin, _“Isn’t that what you want? To be happy?”_

With just one sip, all of the thoughts, the self-loathing, the shadows that dance around in your head, would just be … gone.

The catch? You would have to come back for more when the effects wear off.

It was ingenious, really: you can’t kill someone you need.

So you let her go.

The guilt weighs heavy on your shoulders as you hear Dean and Sam laughing down the hall, celebrating “your victory” with Dean’s favorite whiskey.

They don’t know about your betrayal. They don’t know about a lot of things.

Like the habit of pressing the blade of your knife against your skin when the noise in your head becomes too much.

Or the lingering glances toward the weapons room, counting all the ways you could end your life when the boys aren’t home to stop you.

They don’t realize that the reason you care so much about them is because you care so little about yourself.

Actually, that’s not necessarily true.

Sam knows.

He can somehow manage to know exactly how you’re feeling with just one glance. He sees through your excuses and calls you on your bullshit. He knows when to leave you alone and when to wrap you in his arms and kiss away the pain.

You’ve never once uttered a word about the ache inside your chest or the exhaustion you’ve felt from just being alive, and yet, Sam knows.

A knock at the door pulls you away from your thoughts, followed by Sam’s deep voice, “Hey, Y/N, is everything alright?”

_Is everything alright?_

God, nothing has been alright in such a long time.

You haven’t been alright since the death of your mother when you were only eight years old.

A Werewolf tore out her heart, and in return, tore out the heart of your father. He became consumed with rage and depression, constantly hunting in search of the werewolf who killed your mother before finally dying of an overdose at the age of forty-two.

You continued in your father’s footsteps, becoming one of the best hunters around, second only to the Winchesters. You were reckless with a death wish; running into dangerous situations head-first without thinking of the repercussions.

It was during one of your suicide missions that you met the Winchester’s.

“Y/N?” Sam calls to you again.

You look up at the door, but your mind is elsewhere; back to that night where Sam had rushed you to the ER as you bled out with three broken ribs and a concussion.

You had told him to just leave you to die, but he wouldn’t listen to your pleas.

_“I’m going to save you, Y/N; you’re going to be alive tomorrow whether you want to be or not.”_

His determination did save you in the end, and you had thought that maybe you could live a life with the boys.

But the pain never fully went away.

“Everything is fine, Sammy.” You manage to choke out a reply to your boyfriend, but he’s not dumb; you don’t have a lot of time.

Uncapping the vial, you bring it close to your trembling lips.

_It’ll be okay; everything will be okay._

The thought crosses your mind that this may end up killing you, but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care.

You close your eyes and take one final breath before knocking your head back, tipping the potion along with it.

Before the potion can touch your lips, the vial is knocked out of your hands, shattering on the tile floor.

You snap open your eyes to see Sammy crouched in front of you with his jaw set and hazel eyes examining your body for harm.

You quickly scan the ground for the potion before seeing it puddled on the floor amid the shattered glass, your hope for happiness shattering along with it.

“Sammy!” Tears fall down your face as you yell at the younger Winchester, “What did you do?”

You begin to reach down toward the potion, maybe if you just get a drop …

“Y/N, stop!” Sam wraps his arms around you, effectively stopping you from reaching your destination, “What are you doing?”

“I just want to be, happy!” You choke out, punching at his chest, “She told me I could be happy!”

He tightens his hold on you, rocking you gently while whispering comforting words into your hair.

You give up fighting and melt into his embrace, letting yourself fall apart in his arms.

“I just wanted the pain to go away, Sammy.” You mumble into chest, “The potion could do that.”

There’s a long pause, and you begin wondering if you’ve said too much.

You’re about to push him away, lie, and say that everything is alright, but he speaks up.

“That potion would have killed you, Y/N.”

“You don’t know that.” You shake your head, pulling away from him, “It could have worked!”

You throw your arm towards the broken vial on the floor, but stop short at the sight of Sam’s red-rimmed eyes.

You hadn’t wanted this; you never wanted to make Sam cry−that’s the last thing you’d ever want to do.

“Sammy−” You start to reach out toward him, but he just shakes his head and interrupts you.

“That witch was killing people with emotions, Y/N.” He took a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm himself down, “She sold them whatever they wanted: love, jealousy, anger, happiness. The emotion would work the first few times, but they would eventually die from an overdose.”

You let his words hang in the air between you, not sure you can give him the reaction he wants from you.

You turn my head away from him and bite your lip, not even bothering to hide the tears that have started to fall once again.

“It would be worth it,” You whisper, letting your features crumple, “to feel happiness again.”

“No.” Sam’s voice is harsh, making you jump, “It wouldn’t be worth it, Y/N; I cannot lose you!”

His hands are gentle as they wrap around yours, despite the strength and force in his voice.

Guilt rips through your chest as you watch him quickly wipe away his tears, “I know what it’s like, okay? I know what it’s like to feel like there’s nothing left for you in this world. And I know that it fucking hurts right now, but **you’ll be okay, ‘cause you’re never alone and I will always be there.** ”

His hands cup your cheeks as he lays his forehead against yours, his lips only centimeters away.

You place your hands over his and close your eyes, relishing in the comfort that he brings with just a single touch.

“What happens when I’m not strong enough?” You ask him, inwardly cursing at the way that your voice shakes.

“Then I’ll be strong enough for the both of us.” He tells you, wiping away your tears with his thumb, “Just promise me that you’ll tell me when things are getting bad.”

You open your eyes and give him a soft smile, feeling love radiate off of him in waves.

Could you do this? Could you let yourself be vulnerable for the first time in a long time? Could you let him see every part of you, even the broken pieces?

You’re brought back to the night you met, where he carried through the hospital, demanding that you be seen right away.

_“I’m going to save you.”_ He had meant from your wounds, but maybe he could save you from yourself as well.

“Okay,” You hesitantly concede with a nod, “I promise.”

His eyes brighten for a moment before closing the distance between you in a kiss. His lips are salty from the tears he’s shed, but you don’t notice; you’re too focused on the way that his embrace feels like home.

And for the first time that night, you start to think that maybe, just maybe, everything will actually be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr: [You'll Be Okay](https://super-not-naturall.tumblr.com/post/160074659516/youll-be-okay)


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